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  • My Daughter Called Me Out

    On Saturday night, the kid came out of her room, and told me that she wanted to make a movie. RIGHT NOW! I thought about it for a second, and said yes. Over the course of an hour, she explained to me the story she wanted to tell, I came up with the shot, and we filmed it. The story was of a detective who is hired to find out what happened to the mummy in the museum. The mummy comes to life and the detective sets a trap which captures the monster.

    It was fun, and we are still editing the thing together. Hopefully we will get it completed for festival season.

    I was older than my kid when I started trying to make home movies. I think I was fourteen, and my dad was willing to help out. Though he didn’t want to be on camera unless he really had to, but he was willing to do all the other work. When the kid came out and told me that we had to make a movie, my first thought was of my dad, and how this was my moment to step up, just like he did.

    When I was tucking the kid in that night, I told her how much fun I had with her, and also let her know that her grandfather helped me make movies when I was a kid, too.

    Then the kid said to me, “I didn’t think you would say yes. You say no to things like this.”

    And my heart broke.

    I thought I was the dad who said yes to creative things the kid wants to do. But clearly, I’m the dad that says no. I guess I should feel honored that I was even asked. Either way, it was a huge gut punch. And it happened the day before Father’s Day.

    Unggg…

    By the way, I totally believe her, because when she said it, in my head, I was like yup, I do say no too often. And for the life of me, I’m not sure how I got here.

    (Say! If you enjoyed this post, please take a moment to like, share, or comment on it. These interactions determines my worth as a human.)

  • ODDS and ENDS: Local Spurs Bars, YouTube Battle Documentaries, and Most Men Can’t Grill

    (Holy Cannoli!)

    I have found the local NYC Tottenham Hotspur bar. Well, there are two; One in Manhattan and one in Brooklyn. I’m not planning on going there, as I just like knowing that they are there if I need them. Also, the 2022/23 Premiere League fixture schedule came out on Thursday. I won’t bore you with the details, but the season does start on August 6th.

    I think I might have mentioned a while ago that I started watching disc golf tournaments on YouTube. If I haven’t mentioned it,; I do that now. Somehow the YouTube/Google algorithm (which is our new overload and I do welcome them in running the mine) thought I needed to watch some very detailed, slightly melodramatic, and well narrated, mini documentaries about battles from the ancient and medieval world. And the overlord was correct, I am interested in watching them. It’s nerdy fun for me, as they do cover all of the lead up and logistics of the battles, which is something that is normally glossed over in other histories on the same subject. Now, all of these docs have an ad in them, which makes complete sense because somebody’s got to pay for this. I am not knocking these guys for having ads. Hell, I’m probably going to be doing the same thing very soon. What I find impressive about these ads is the seamlessness the voiceover artists have with going from talking about the battle to selling whatever product. It’s like, “Little did Caesar know that Pompey was setting a trap that would decide the future of the Roman Republic, just like how my future was decided when I began using Giglio Men’s Facial Regimen – I product I fully endorse, and suggest that you should try as well.” I tip my cap to these guys; they sell these products just as convincingly as they narrate the documentaries.

    Yeah, most guys don’t know how to grill. (I said, and I ain’t scared.) I have been talking to the wife about this lately because it’s summer, and grilling season, and some guy somewhere will grill some sort of meat for us, and it will be awful. And we will chew this grey piece of burnt bark while being regaled by this guy, telling us how great he is at grilling. Please, fellas, stop it. If you don’t know how to cook in a kitchen, what the fuck makes you think that you are amazing over a grill? It’s like all of the guys turn into the Hulk over the grill. “FIRE! SMASH!” Just… just stop. We, your friends, are begging you. Just stop.

    (Say, if you like what you read, then don’t forget to like, or share, or leave a comment. Every bit helps.)

  • The Arts Are Needed In School

    This morning, I went to my kid’s school for a concert. The kid’s music teacher, Mr. Joel who works for a wonderful organization “Little Orchestra Society” was presenting songs that he and the students wrote together over the school year. Joining Mr. Joel were three professional musicians on stage; a trumpet player, celloist, and a clarinetist. The performance worked like this: Mr. Joel would play the song on his guitar with the student’s singing their song. Then Mr. Joel and the musicians would play the piece, and afterward, the students would make a suggestion for a change, which the musicians would incorporate. It was fun, and we all had a good time.

    Full discloser here, I have worked for “Little Orchestra Society” as a puppeteer. So, I might be a little biased toward what they do, BUT, what they bring to school kids in NYC is pretty important, so you have to deal with my bias. Now, I wasn’t a teacher, just a hired performer, like I assumed the three musicians were today.

    There are many things that are downright stupid about the New York City Public Schools, such as many schools do not have dedicated arts teachers, which requires these schools to contract out for teachers from organizations to come to their schools. The good news is that the artist that show up and teach the kids are amazingly talented, and are truly dedicated to teaching these students. I know, because I have several friends who do this work, and really do pour everything into their time with the kids.

    I also acknowledge that I am in a very special position where I have the ability to go and be an audience member for these performances. Most parents have to work, and I know if they had a choice, they would have been there today. The twenty or so of us that made it, did our best to be loud and supportive. You know, we wanted to make the kids and Mr. Joel feel good about what they accomplished, and also to say thank you to Mr. Joel.  And for me, I also wanted to make sure those three musicians up on stage, who all jokingly admitted that they got the sheet music for the songs the night before, know that their efforts were apricated as well.

    I know I am not the first person to say this, and I know I won’t be the last, but please remember to support the arts in your local school. For those of you in NYC, “Little Orchestra Society” is a wonderful organization to support, and a donation would go a long way to help children in the city.

    (Say! If you like what you have read, please like, share, and leave a comment. It would help justify my existence.)

  • Short Story Review: “HOUYHNHNM” by André Alexis

    (The short story “HOUYHNHNM” by André Alexis, appeared in the June 20th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Vanessa Winship

    (I’ll probably SPOIL it)

    Did you ever have a simple turkey sandwich but for whatever reason, was just amazing? Like, it’s made up of all the same simple ingredients that you have in your house, but somehow the person in the kitchen put it together in a way that somehow was spot on. Man, it’s just a turkey sandwich, but it’s great turkey sandwich.

    I mean no disrespect, but that is exactly what “HOUYHNHNM” by André Alexis was to me. The title of the story is taken from the name of a race of fictional intelligent horses from Gulliver’s Travels. The story is told by the adult son of a well to do but modest doctor who is all scientific logic, and buys a horse. This isn’t his first horse he’s owned, but soon a special bond is formed between the doctor and the horse, to the point where the doctor spends all of his free time with the horse; walking, reading to him, talking to him. It even gets to the point to where the doctor builds the horse a special barn to live in. Suddenly, the doctor passes, and the son takes on the responsibility of caring for the horse, only to find that the horse can speak. The son realizes why his father spent so much time with the animal, and also the son begins to do the same things that his father did when he was attending the horse.

    I used the metaphor of the simple ingredients here because nothing in this story took me by surprise. I knew where it was going, I saw all the pieces, I knew was Alexis was going to build. I knew that with the son now spending time with the horse, he was gaining a deeper understand of who his father was. And when the horse’s decline set in, I also knew that the story was alluding to having a parent who is succumbing to dementia, and the pain that can cause when the loved one soon no longer recognizes you. Even with that said, it was an effective story – honest and authentic. Not a word seemed false or forced. The title of the piece was clearly there to say to the reader that this horse was real, and not a figment of the narrator’s imagination, though, that was the only aspect of the story that I kept expecting to surface, but it never did. And I apricated that dedication to the premise – this is a talking horse story.

    Maybe it’s me. This is a story about losing a parent, and that subject still holds a soft spot in me. But I do think that there is more to this story. Though I did know where this story was going, I experienced a special catharsis in the son gaining a better understanding of his father. That might be a very basic desire of all children after their parents die, and though it might be basic, it is still a wish I hope comes true.

    (Say! If you like what you have read, please like, share, and leave a comment. It would help justify my existence.)

  • English Language Rules

    You know what I am very bad at? Knowing when to use “maybe” and “may be.”

    I suck at grammar. This blog is filled with type-o’s from here till dawn, and until I get an editor, it will continue to function in this improper manner. God bless the people out there who can remember all the rules and know how to follow them. And in the same breath, you can fuck right off all of you people who use grammar as some sort of cudgel to make people feel ignorant and uncultured.

    Sadly, everyone, even really smart grammar-nazi people, has an innate desire to kick someone around to make themselves feel better. I wish people weren’t like that, but we are.

    If grammar people were honest, they would admit that the rules to the English language are arbitrary at best, and change often. Samuel Johnson, who wrote the first English dictionary, wanted to have a manual of the authoritative rules of the English language. Where did he find these rules? He made them up. The rules were based on his preferences, and for almost 300 years we have been following or breaking them ever since.

    As I am sure you can tell, I don’t like people who use the language as some sort of litmus test of a person’s intelligence. Whenever I hear “proper way to speak” or “proper way to write” it is like finger nails on the chalk board. The word “proper” when used in the context of language, is never meant as a signal that one is have difficulty discerning the meaning from the use of the language. No, when “proper” shows up in the contextual discussion of language, it is meant to signify that one use the of the language is “good” and another is “bad.”

    For that reason, I wish the English language, spoken and written, were treated more like a musical instrument that conveys emotion and understanding, regardless of how it is “played.” The sole question that should be ask is only, “Did you understand the intent and render a meaning?” If the answer is yes, then the language was used correctly.

    Maybe if we accepted more understanding, we would have a better understanding.

    (Say! If you like what you have read, please like, share, and leave a comment. It would help justify my existence.)